After his amazing Hogmanay Hootenanny had finally drawn to a close, Algy slept for many, many hours, and when he awoke he found that all his party guests had vanished, no doubt returning to the many magical places around the world from which they had come.
Feeling that he needed a wee bit of fresh air and exercise after such extensive partying, Algy flew around his assistants' garden several times. But he found that it was unpleasantly cold… It was early January, after all; the ponds were covered with thin sheets of ice, and the garden was hushed and quiet.
Suddenly, the sun burst through the wintry clouds, and although it was still exceedingly low in the sky, only just managing to clear the rocky ridges of the surrounding hills, parts of the garden were bathed in a beautiful golden light… at least for a few minutes, for the sun could evidently feel the chill too, and soon retreated to warmer climes.
It was glorious while it lasted, however, so Algy found himself a perch on a sunlit tree stump and indulged in a harmonious duet with a wee robin friend nearby, until the light faded into greyness once again. And while the two fluffy birds sang in wordless harmony, Algy took deep gulps of the January air and thought:
Something’s moving in, I hear the weather in the wind, sense the tension of a sheep-field and the pilgrimage of fins. Something’s not the same, I taste the sap and feel the grain, hear the rolling of the rowan ringing, singing in a change. Something’s set to start, there’s meadow-music in the dark and the clouds that shroud the mountain slowly, softly start to part.
[Algy is thinking of A Poem for the New Year by the contemporary English poet Matt Goodfellow.]
